The Meaning in the Coffee
by Chestnutlass
Summary: Sometimes there is great meaning in small details. In small details we can find great truths. A collection of one-shots following a future for our beloved B & B....A companion piece to The Should in the Could
1. The Meaning in the Coffee

Author's Note: A simple story that I wrote in my own bed on a lazy, rainy Sunday. While it isn't a "Sequel" of my story _The Could in the Should_, it was written with that storyline in mind. I am thinking that perhaps there are a few one shots in there. Perhaps this is me trying to stay calm before, what is sure to be, an emotional season finale….

She lay there, naked against the cool crisp linen, wrapped in the luxury of 1400 thread-count organic Egyptian cotton sheets. They were akin to the softest silk, but far more environmentally responsible. Temperance Brennan may not be one to flaunt her book royalties, to purchase unnecessarily markers of wealth, but when it came to her bed no expense was spared. It was a rational decision. A rather large percentage of time was spent there, even though her hours were less than average, and quality of sleep was directly related to overall productivity and health. The fact that the muted shades of grays and lavenders, the wrought iron scrollwork, or the ruffled shams made her feel feminine and beautiful was just not a part of the equation she dwelled on. The end result was the same, she adored this space. She never would have imagined that the only missing element was something so…masculine.

_The first time he had seen her bedroom he had tried, unsuccessfully, to hide his surprise. They had been just partners, a year or two into their work, arguing about some inconsequential matter when he had followed when she went to change out of a broken heel. _

_He halted mid complaint. "Wow Bones its really nice in here."_

_She had stopped short, turned to face him, nearly nose to nose. "Are you implying that is incongruent with the rest of my home?" He couldn't determine her tone to be teasing or irritated._

_He faltered under her glare. "No…not at all… you know that I love your place….but this is really…nice." _

_She smirked, knowing she had just won something. "Yes, as you have already indicated." _

_She merely reached for the shoes in her closet and walked away without discussing it further. She was determined not to think what his generic adjective of "nice" meant. _

She smiled at the memory. His presence was unnerving in that moment and yet somehow he now completed the space, brought a new level of sanctuary to her already perfect place. He made it feel like home. Looking at his musculature and how its curves and planes were highlighted by the early morning glow. His physical prowess was evident, impressive, even with dark hair askew, a sense of strength despite the serenity of his face as he dreamt. His warmth, his scent, the sound of his breathing washed over her like a calming rain. Although she had allowed other men into her bed, she had never felt them there, not like this. In a markedly un-Dr. Brennan move, she moved closer to his reposed form, and allowed herself to join in his continued morning slumber.

It was nearly an hour later when Booth woke, his first thought was of softness, the bed beneath him, the skin of her beside him, a feeling that had settled in his heart. There was always an aura of elegance about her, nothing forced or faked, yet he would never have expected the detail she put into her bedroom. He had spent countless hours in the public parts of her home. He expected the museum quality of her things. While over time he had come to appreciated that to her these artifacts were personal, and he began to understand that it had its own variety of warmth. The intimacy of this space opened up to him, like her heart had.

It had only been a few weeks since they first crossed the line…that damn line. But Booth was a believer in fate, which allowed him to understand that they had to take their journey to get where they were today, however painful it was.

_It had come in an unsuspecting moment Parker and he had picked up Bones unexpectedly for a day in the park. He had always loved the park in the spring; the trees were rich and green, the grass cool and soft, the sky almost...almost… could complete with the hue of her eyes. _

_Parker was playing with Brennan's dog, Trotter, running with a red Frisbee, shouting with a level of joy he rarely heard from his budding preteen. He felt her hand relax with his; it felt like coming home. _

_She smiled watching the world go by. "This is nice." _

"_Yeah." He hadn't known what else to say, how often had they been on this precipice. If there was one thing he had learned that when these moments came he had to tread lightly. _

"_Parker is definitely beginning to show his adult structure. His appearance is taking on more of your prominent features." _

"_Yeah." I seemed words where not his friend today._

_Her hand shifted under his, for a terrifying moment he thought she was going to pull it away, but instead he discovered her intertwining her fingers with his, purposeful, deliberate, open. _

_He turned in that moment to look at her. Her sparkling eyes met his, his charming smile matched her coy one, and suddenly in the breath of a moment her lips touched his. It felt like coming home. _

That moment, that snippet in time when his life suddenly made sense, would make him smile for the rest of his life. Mulling the sweet perfection as he admired the light that caressed her bare shoulder that set off the amber highlights of her hair, his face couldn't contain his joy and suddenly he knew he had to start the day. Hating to wake her, knowing that for her stretches of quality sleep were a rarity, he gently slipped from the bed, from her bed. A piece of him wanted nothing more than to laze the day away, to spend this impossibly perfect Saturday with her in his arms but he had plans.

When she woke again, the sun had crept up much higher on the bedroom wall. The angle indicated that it was nearly 9 am, incredibly late for her to still be abed. The fact was disorientating to her, especially when she realized the bed was cold, until she heard him muttering in her kitchen. Grabbing his discarded dress shirt from the night before, she grinned as she walked down the hall.

She entered her kitchen, and wasn't sure whether to laugh or scream. Her normally immaculate and orderly space looked like it had been taken over by a class of rowdy kindergarteners. There was batter, on the counter, dripping to the floor, leaving a sticky white trail down the cabinet front. Not one but two eggs lay on the floor shattered, oozing yellow across her dark slate tiles. There was even a spot of something that looked disturbingly like ketchup in a splatter pattern on her ceiling. And as if on cue her smoke alarm began to scream at the black billows that were coming off a pan on the stove.

"SHIT!" Booth shouted as he moved to turn the stove knob.

Normally Booth was fairly adept in the kitchen, not a gourmet but he had made her a delightful dinner on several occasions. However it would seem this was not the case today, and the tension across his trapezius gave evidence of his physical and emotional discomfort. She progressed toward him hoping her mirth would calm him.

However her movement stopped as she noticed on the counter, in her favorite mug, was a cup of coffee, beside it a single vibrant daffodil. In an attempt to stifle her giggle she lifted the flower to her noses. And her giggle relaxed into a warm smile.

Switching the bud for the coffee she took a small sip, wallowing in the robust liquid. It was a rich dark roast, freshly ground. He had added a split vanilla bean to the press before brewing. There was a single splash of cream, no sweetener. Serving as a sudden reminder of what was important.

"Mmmmmm" it made her sigh as she continued to warm her hands on the ceramic and allow the aroma to envelope her. "Booth it's splendid."

"Bones…please I destroyed your kitchen. I really am sorry." He refused to face her, ashamed of his errors.

She came up behind him and snaked her arms around his middle, allowing her hand without coffee to sneak beneath his well-worn t-shirt to rest on his taught abs. "It can all be cleaned, besides I recognize the attempt was made out of a desire to show your affection and ability to provide for me.

He turned in her embrace without meeting her eyes. He looked defeated, as if he was ready to accept punishment. "Going all squinty on me isn't going to get the yolk off the tile." His voice was heavy.

"Trust me Booth, your prowess as an alpha male is not in question, nor is your regard for me, despite today's culinary adventure." She lifted his face to meet hers, as he so often had to her. Making a dramatic show she once again took a solid drink. "This is precisely the way I take my coffee."

He looked puzzled, not truly understanding the meaning of her words. "Well Bones of course it is. After all this time I should know how you take your coffee." He brushed off the complement.

"Exactly. You know my coffee, down to every nuance. My preferences for a fresh vanilla bean, my need to have it before I would partake in any other breakfast offerings, even my favorite mug.

His simple, affable tone nearly did her in. "I know you Bones." While he appreciated her understanding about the mess he still didn't quite realize why she was so pleased.

"Don't you see? You know me." She reached up kissing the rough skin of his unshaved jaw. "You _know_ me, and you care for me. Burnt toast doesn't change that, couldn't change that. This." She motioned to her cup, "A simple act that has lasting implication of familiarity. It is personal, not flashy. It is affection and warmth and tenderness. That is what love is? Isn't it?" The question at the end grabbed out to him.

His eyes finally met hers and grew soft, shifting from their usual chocolate tint to something more akin to a rich smoky scotch, emphasizing the golden flecks. For a second he allowed his fingers to twirl a silken lock of hair and his lips barely brushed hers. "When did you get so smart?"

She smiled at the relaxation that emanated from him; he had finally grasped her connotation. "Well I was genetically predisposed to above- average intelligence, and my expertise is something that evolved with training. " She smiled letting on that she was toying with him. "But" her voice became softer as her arms draped around his neck "this particular topic? Matters of emotion? That I learn from you…every day."

He kissed her soundly, full of passion and love. "I love you." He whispered.

She smiled at him "I know."

He grinned. "And I will clean this up."

With that she took her coffee, turned and headed off to the shower.

Her smile grew, but she didn't even look back at him. "Oh I know that too."


	2. The Home Beyond the Blue Door

Author's Note: The current angst is just getting to be a bit too much of late. I am not an overly emotional person, yet these characters break my heart…regularly. So instead of focusing on canon at this time I am delving a little further into the future I created for BB in _The Should in the Could_, and explored a little more in _The Meaning in the Coffee_… enjoy….

XXXXX

Their beloved bohemian friend had insisted on painting their front door a vibrant blue, touting that it gave their Georgetown brownstone needed character and whimsy. Bones had made an off handed comment about it was really so the artist didn't get lost when visiting. For Booth, however, their cobalt door meant only one thing...he was home. Built of bricks and mortar and love, it was the first place in his 40 years that truly met all criteria.

It had been a nearly endless week, one that had kept him away from home, something he rarely did anymore. A hotel was reserved in New York for him for another night, but when he finished his final meeting before 5 he knew that sleeping in his own bed was well worth the late drive. The meetings were arduous, but progress had been made in three different cold cases and he had trained another group of agents to be better equipped to communicate with the scientific community. Sometimes he barely recognized his job, hell his life, from what it had been just a few years earlier. Gathering his luggage from the SUV he couldn't help but be drawn into the memories.

_The pain was excruciating, like threads of molten iron encircled his entire body. Nothing moved, his muscles refused to obey his command. Even the lids of his eyes were beyond his control, and so in darkness he suffered. Then like a siren from the shore, or an angel from the heavens he heard her voice._

"Booth? Booth? Please open your eyes...please."

The sadness and desperation in her voice only increased his agony. When she used that lost little girl voice on him he could deny her nothing, yet heading her pleads was beyond his ability.

It may have been hours or days when he voice called out to him again. "I'm here. I'm right beside you. But I need to know you are still beside me..."

The promises he made were not going to be broken, not tonight.

Reaching deep to the base of his strength, for that is what she was, he found enough reserve to force his eyes open.  


_She was by his side in but a breath, hands caressing his marred face. "Booth? Booth?"_

He tried to make eye contact with her, to quell her worry, to let her know she wasn't alone. Words had never been needed between them, and in this moment he couldn't be more grateful for that connection. The truth was that there was no possibility for him to form coherent words. He was simply too weak, but she heard him.

Silver trails of too long held back tears went streaming down her pale cheeks. "You have to stop doing this, you can't claim to love me and then go rushing off on these dangerous missions, and especially not when you don't tell me and leave me at the lab. I am not some passive female that needs your protection. I know that you think it was best, that you need to know I'm safe. But Booth, you tell me we are partners, equals, and....and...and I need to know that YOU are safe too..." She quieted her own rambling as she brought her forehead to rest against his in their long held display of camaraderie and affection. 

_He knew, knew in that moment he truly COULDN'T do this to her again. The life they were building was too important, it was more than just the work. As the darkness started to creep in again his thoughts were of how much he loved this woman and how it might just be time for a change…  
_

Of all the choices he doubted in his life, finally accepting the promotion that reduced the field work was not one of them. As he bounded up the front stoop, his keys in the lock, he felt the weight of the week slip from his shoulders. That last case had changed him, changed them, no longer was there a rush that came from storming a criminal's hideout. Realizing that he had a lot to offer in interrogations, mission planning and training had allowed him to find peace in his new role. Frankly the greatest thrill of his life was coming home. There was no way to describe it, perhaps Bones would say it was a release of some brain chemical or another, but beyond the blue door he always found joy.

"Hello! I'm home. Anyone here?" He removed his shoes and threw his bag against the closet door.

Rachel appeared in the hallway. "Hey Mr. Booth. Dr. Brennan isn't home yet. She said she wasn't expecting you until tomorrow morning. "

"Yeah I decided to brave the traffic tonight." With his charm smile she shrugged. "Was missing home."

"She will be glad to see you and there is extra macaroni and cheese Dr. Brennan made last night in the fridge. Things have been quiet around here for more than an hour."

"Thanks Rachel. We will see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah. I will be here by eight." She grabbed her oversized shoulder bag. "I have class tomorrow afternoon so Carolyn will be here when you get home. Good night!"

"Goodnight and thanks again."

After watching her get safely get into the car he headed upstairs, removing his jacket and tie as he went. Years of sniper training kept his footfalls nearly silent as he made his way through their home. Their home. Over the past few years they had slowly morphed this townhouse into a refuge. It hadn't be easy melding her ancient burial masks with his sports memorabilia, her preference for light colors and his rich earth tones, but the end result was breathtaking, perfect.

He stopped at the first doorway, gently pushing it open, taking note of the slumbering gangly, sandy-haired teen. A quick adjustment of the covers, a closed laptop and a flick of a switch left the boy to dream peacefully. Further down the hall the occupant was also sound asleep and unknowing of his presence as he silently entered. In the crib was a curly haired little girl, dressed in a yellow fleece sleeper, the contrast of her dark lashes caressed her round cherub cheeks.

"Hey there baby girl." Ever so gently he lifted her from the bed, the movement caused her to stir and look up at him with bright eyes and a smile. Enraptured in her soft touch and fresh smell he found himself settled in the rocker. Looking out at the night stars he couldn't help but hum, a song he barely remembered from childhood, the words long lost but the tune remained. His deep robust timber reverberated across his chest soothing the infant. She quickly fell back asleep, her father not far behind.

As the blue door swung open to a darkened home, immediately she knew where she could find him. She had started to say her farewells the instant she received the text message from the nanny stating Booth was at home. In fact, she couldn't get there fast enough. For a moment she stood in the nursery door, watching, studying. It was not anthropological but visceral. This was her family, her love, her home and she couldn't prevent the contemplation of how she had come to deserve such an existence. In the darkness she could make out his solid figure highlighted by the moonlight, she crept in not wanting to wake anyone. Allowing herself to be immersed in the scene, she focused on the lesson he had spent years teaching her, not all matters must be rationalized. Their love was one of those outliers.

_Panic was beginning to set in as she thought about the plastic stick for the thousandth time. They had talked about this in hypothetical, potential, theoretical discussions. However they both knew that their lives in this moment were not idyllic to raise an infant. Jobs that were strenuous, demanding, unpredictable, and not contusive to the type of quality parenting they hoped to one day accomplish. Her fear prevented her from sharing the news for three days. _

_She felt his presence on the platform before she even heard him, she wondered if perhaps on some subconscious level she recognized his scent, something primal in her responding to something in him. Failing to acknowledge his entrance, she continued to examine a pre-civil war mandible. But he had crept behind her and encircled her shoulders with his arms. _

"_Talk to me," he murmured tenderly. It was not the first time he had pleaded these words during their relationship. While he had grown used to her solitary ways of dealing with her emotions, he also knew that sometimes he had to coax her from behind the walls. For the past few days he had agonized as he watched her withdraw and immerse herself in her stoic world of science. _

_She stiffened under his strong hands ever so slightly. She still wasn't sure how she felt about things, how could she possibly gather the courage to deal with his reaction? A deep breath, and then another as she felt his breath warm the nape of her exposed neck. _

"_I'm pregnant." Barely the vigor of a whisper. _

_Spinning her around so that they were face to face she saw the joy in his smile and the fear in his eyes. "How do….you feel about that?" _

_Something about his presence, his ever calming, ever secure, presence suddenly made everything clear. She couldn't fathom why she had waited so long to tell him, why she was hesitating, it was all so very obvious. _

"_I am…inexplicably happy. Rationally I know that it is not the perfect scenario to rear offspring but my desire to procreate and nurture seems to outweigh that at this moment." _

_That was all the encouragement he needed to sweep her off her feet, quite literally, and spin her around. He shouted for all to hear, to share their news with friends and colleagues alike. "SHE'S HAVING MY BABY!" _

She chuckled remembering how she had reprimanded him for using such possessive language and for being reckless in the lab. It was an old argument between them, part of the very fabric of their relationship. A sudden shift of his handsome brow was the first sign that she had awoken him.

"Hey" she whispered. "I apologize if my presence woke you."

"Hey yourself." He smiled at her, in a way that she knew would forever increase her dopamine levels. "Sorry for taking her out of her crib. I know it isn't good for her to let her be rocked to sleep. I just couldn't resist." In a single fluid motion he rose from the chair, kissed the love of his life and laid their daughter back in her crib. "I missed you guys."

She smiled. "Your absence was keenly felt here as well, despite it only being a few days. I find it unfathomable that we once used to be separated, for weeks at a time, with minimal discomfort." She felt his warm arms wrap around her as the last of the week's difficulties and loneliness was washed away. She signed contently "And I don't think one night in her father's arms will do her any harm."

Gazing at this woman, so lovely in her jade silk evening gown the rest of the world melted away. "My arms felt so empty this week. I just want to hold both of my girls. "

"It's good to be home." She whispered, leaning over the crib to caress her daughter's downy curls and took him by the hand as they walked toward their own bedroom.

Two bodies found themselves pressed against a wall, his face pressed against her throat whispering. "I need you, in our bedroom, out of this dress, screaming my name."

"Oh." Her kisses peppered his face and dove into mouth passionately. "Director Booth I do believe that you cannot require that without a warrant. Although I am sure your famed interrogation techniques could illicit your required information." It was rare that she played with him so, and damn was it hot.

"Well Dr. Brennan it is a good thing I got your warrant right here." Hands couldn't work fast enough to remove their clothing, tearing in sweet desperation.

"Hey." Eyes that had nearly deepened to indigo seared into his, her words soaked into his very soul, proving once again that she knew all the right buttons to drive this man wild.

That there was something she could say, a silky whisper, which was even more powerful than when she yelled out to him…

"That's Dr. _Booth_ to you…."

Author's Note: I apologize to anyone who had read and reviewed this story as a standalone. My need to have things orderly made me think that it this would be better as a "collection." But honestly I am not sure. I would love your thoughts on single standalones vs. "collection." Additionally, I have several more ideas for this series, and am wondering if having the intermittent flashbacks are helpful or distracting from the story?


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